The Case of the Little White Flower
by NextGeneration18
Summary: It was very plain early on that Rosie Watson was to never have a normal life. Add a young detective in training dragging her all over Europe, and her world is forever turned upside-down! Sherolly, past John/Mary, and Rosie/OC
1. Rosie's Date Sort Of

**Hi, everyone! it's been nearly two weeks since the Sherlock's season finale, and I must say that I think that's it's the best season that they've put out so far!**

 **I got this idea while I was attempting to write a Sherolly fanfic that took place after the Final Problem. I haven't finished writing that one, but I got so much more ahead with this one, but, isn't that the way storytelling is anyway?**

 **This takes place 17 years after the Final Problem.**

* * *

"So you were in the army?" 17-year-old Rosie Watson looked across the table to where her date sat.

"For 8 months," was Derek Stanley's reply with a smile, "Until this happened." He patted his injured leg gently.

"Afghanistan?" Rosie felt a twinge of sympathy for the young man in front of her as she rested her chin on top of her folded hands.

"I wish," Derek responded with a scoff, "I was helping unloading a supply truck when the brakes snapped; didn't get out of the way fast enough. It was then that they had to let me go."

"I'm sorry," Rosie responded thinking of her own father's injury and how he was honorably discharged as a result.

"Yeah, well, it happens," Derek took a sip of his drink.

Beside her dinner plate, Rosie's phone suddenly vibrated. She saw that she had a text and decided to briefly read it.

 **He got an injury while he was in the army due to the fact that he was caught in the middle of cheating with his superior's young wife. Here's a news clipping:**

 **C.H.**

Rosie sighed in annoyance and looked across the table to her quizzed date.

"Would you mind if I took this? It's actually kind of important."

"Not at all," Derek flashed her a winning smile, "I'll still be here."

Rosie got up and went into the ladies' room. She leaned on the wall and with tight lips, read the news article that _he_ had sent her.

Apparently, _he_ had been right… _again._ Her date was caught in the middle of making out with his superior's wife, Sylvia Thomas…in her kitchen, no less.

When caught, Derek had jumped back in surprise, hitting the counter and causing one of the knives to fall off the counter and into his leg. Of course, he had survive but had to be dishonorably discharged due to his inappropriate actions leading up to the injury.

Rosie crossed her arms indignantly and tapped her foot in irritation.

Why did _he_ have to be right about nearly everything? It was infuriating that _he_ had even looked into her date to begin with! Why did _he_ even care about her love life at all?

Instead of texting him "Grrrrr…" like she wanted to, Rosie, seething, took out her phone and responded:

 **Everyone makes mistakes.**

 **R.W.**

His response was slow in coming, which was unusual because he normally had a comeback for everything. When it did come, however, she could practically hear the snarky laughter in the text.

 **Oh, come, Rosie; he's a habitual cheater. The moment you left the room, he started to flirt with the waitress who, I must say, is far less attractive than you.**

 **C.H.**

"What the-," Rosie sputtered in barely contained rage. She felt her lips tighten as she responded.

 **Are you SPYING on me?! How long?**

 **R.W.**

His response was almost instant.

 **About 7.3 minutes. Now let him down easy, Rose; we have a case to solve! :D**

 **C.H.**

For some irrational, unfounded reason, Rosie wanted to blow that emoji up to kingdom come. Instead, she responded as calmly as she could.

 **We don't solve cases.**

 **R.W.**

A millisecond later, her phone vibrated again.

 **We do now; it concerns your father.**

 **C.H.**

Rosie felt some of the tight anger leave her as some concern set in. what was wrong with her father?

Before she could respond, her phone vibrated.

 **I'm outside the restaurant waiting by the door; you know what you have to do.**

 **C.H.**

Rosie sighed as she looked into the bathroom mirror more to compose herself than anything.

This was the third, no, the fourth time in a row that he had been right about one of her dates. Because of his unusual skill set it wasn't too much of a surprise.

Still…

Rosie took a deep breath the walked out the door.

When she sat down across from Derek again something was different. His earlier confidence from before was gone, but she didn't have time to address that.

"Who is Sylvia Thomas?"

Derek's face paled.

"Where did you hear that name?"

"Seems to me that there was a news article dating a few months back that concerns a young soldier, his superior's young wife, and a kitchen knife."

"Rebecca…"

" _Rosie._ And thank-you for your honesty and your willingness to pay for the meal. Good night."

She grabbed her handbag, stood up, took her black shawl that draped over the back of her chair and walked out the door.

"Do you _mind_?" She asked her friend once she spotted him leaning on the wall outside the restaurant door.

"If you mean do I mind you getting into a relationship based on dishonesty due to a kitchen knife accident, then yes, I do mind."

Rosie wanted to wipe the smug smile off of Callum Holmes' face.

"I can't _believe_ that you actually screened him!"

Callum crossed his arms, his smile gone.

"Well let's have a look at your track record, shall we, Rosamund Watson? The last guy had two other girlfriends completely unknown to you, the guy before that kidnapped you to make a point to our fathers, and the guy before that was a serial rapist. A _serial. Rapist,_ Rosie _._ I _still_ remember the look on your father's face when I told him that one, so forgive me for being at least a little concerned!"

Rosie was stumped with rage trying to speak, but no words came out at first.

"Did my father put you up to this?"

"No. I did it completely out of my own accord. Though," he cracked a smile, "he probably figured I would do it anyway, so he probably didn't feel the need to even ask me."

"I hate you."

"No you don't." His smugness was back because, once again, he was right; she didn't hate him nor could she ever, no matter how infuriating he could get.

"What's with my father?"

Rosie saw his eyes twinkle in the overhead light with humor as he looked away before answering her.

"I was at your flat earlier picking up one of my scarves that I had left behind last week, and I arrived at the same time your father was checking the mail. In one of the envelopes was nothing but a little white flower."

Rosie drew her eyebrows together.

"That is strange."

"What was even stranger was his reaction. He turned as white as the flower."

"When I asked what was wrong with him, he told me to not to tell my father about it and to forget I ever saw it."

"Weird…"

"Probably because he planned on telling my father anyway. He's probably at my flat right now eating some of my mother's biscuits."

"So what are we going to do?"

"We," Callum responded with his trademark smile, "Are going to help solve it."

* * *

 **So…what do you think? Like it? Hate it? Please review and comment! I take constructive criticism, but please no character bashing and/or foul language.**


	2. The Violin

**Hi, guys, thanks for all of your support and lovely comments! Here's my latest installment!**

 **Alatum Laminis: Thank-you so much! Writer's block can be very difficult, and don't get me started on high expectatiopns! Believe me; I know.**

 **Analena: Thank-you again for pointing out those inaccuresies! I'll definately go back and fix them!**

 **daughterxofxdarkness and Gheart: Here's the latest installment!**

 **Roll film!**

* * *

Callum inserted the key into the apartment door then smiled smugly.

"Listen," he put a finger over his mouth.

Rosie resisted rolling her eyes and tuned her ears to what was going on behind the closed door. She heard her father's voice.

"Thank-you for the tea, Molly; do you have any of those lovely biscuits available?"

This time, Rosie didn't hold back and rolled her eyes as Callum opened the door leading into the living room.

Sitting on the chair was John Watson nibbling on a biscuit in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. On the couch sat Callum's parents, Sherlock and Molly.

John looked surprised.

"Rosie, I thought you were on a date."

"I was," Rosie forced herself not to clench her teeth feeling Callum's sense of victory radiating from him.

Molly grinned and stood up and walked over then enveloped her in a hug. Rosie hugged back.

"You look so pretty tonight." She said pulling back and brushed a long golden curl behind her ear, "Did Callum interrupt another one of your dates?"

"He'll tell you that he rescued me from him."

"I did. A habitual cheater is hardly a laughing matter."

"I would have figured it out sooner or later."

"Mmmmmm; no you wouldn't have."

"Why?"

"Because, even though you're one of the smartest girls I know, you're also one of the most oblivious."

" _Oblivious_?"

"Yes, oblivious. It was a good thing I let him know that you had someone looking out for you."

"Wait…you didn't speak to him."

Callum raised an eyebrow.

"You've got to be joking; _you spoke to him_?"

"Perhaps."

"When?"

 _ **Flashback:**_

 _Callum waited for Rosie to disappear into the ladies' room before making his move on Derek. He pushed open the door and was greeted by the host at the podium._

" _Excuse me, sir, do you have a reservation?"_

 _Callum was thankful that they had just changed shifts and the guy that was here wasn't the same guy that sat Derek and Rosie. Plus, judging by the fact he had a numbered seating chart in front of him and the menu next to it indicated that he was probably new to the job._

" _I'm with the gentleman over there." He pointed to Derek who was already flirting with he and Rosie's waitress. The nerve of that guy!_

" _Alright; carry on."_

 _Callum smiled as he strode across the room until he stood in front of Derek Stanly._

 _Derek looked up from talking with the waitress and saw that Callum was trying to make eye contact with him._

" _May I help you?"_

" _Actually, I think you can." Callum tried to conceal his annoyance with the guy that was trying to fool his best friend as he took Rosie's seat and rested his ankle on his other leg's knee._

" _Excuse me!" Derek responded incredulously, "Who do you think you are? Do you know who I am?"_

" _Derek Stanly. Son of the wealthy Stanford and Violet Thomas. Age: 19, dropped out of three of the finest colleges in Europe then turned to army when you became aware of your father's obvious disappointment in your life choices._

" _You're the father of three children from three different women and you promised to be careful when you enlisted, but you just couldn't help yourself when you saw Sylvia Thomas, could you? No, you were hooked for however long your fancy for her lasted._

" _But of course, it was short lived when you were caught being too friendly with her in the Thomas' kitchen." Here Callum couldn't help but laugh at the somewhat humorous turn of events, "A cutting knife when you hit the counter?" He threw his head back and laughed more, "I don't know about you, but that's a rather embarrassing injury to explain for one of the reasons you got discharged. I'll bet you 20 pounds that that's not the story you just told Rosie."_

" _Rosie?"_

" _Mhm. Rosie." His phone vibrated which he whipped out and checked._

 _ **Everyone makes mistakes.**_

 _ **R.W.**_

 _He couldn't help but laugh humorlessly._

" _Oh, she's so forgiving. Way more than you deserve." He looked back up to Rosie's date whose face looked as if something dawned on him._

" _Ah, so this is about Rosie?" He laughed with a relief, "And here I thought I owed you or your employer money. Are you an ex of hers who hasn't gotten over her?"_

" _On the contrary; a concerned childhood friend who has her happiness in mind is more to the point. And as for the people you owe money to, they should come to collect in four days time if my calculations are correct, which they rarely aren't."_

 _Derek's smile froze, then disappeared._

" _You're a psychopath."_

" _On the contrary," Callum leaned forward and folded his hands over the table, "I'm a high functioning sociopath; with your number." He smiled._

 _ **End of flashback**_

"I hate you," Rosie said, "And I mean it this time."

"No you don't."

"Is that a new violin, Uncle Sherlock?" Rosie asked wanting to change the subject.

"No," Sherlock said at the same time Callum said, "A used one." The two Holmes' looked at each other.

Rosie looked between the two of them.

"Which one is true?"

"Both," Sherlock said as Callum picked the instrument off of the table to inspect it.

"Very good condition though it's old," Callum commented, "someone loved it quite a bit."

"Anything else you can deduce?" Sherlock smiled as he leaned back in the couch, though, Rosie could see the strained lines on his face; he was worried. Did this have anything to do with her father?

Rosie looked at Callum as he scrutinized the violin.

"Hmmm; there are worn out marks on the neck from where someone would press his or her fingers; they're too small to be a man's but too large to be a child's; perhaps a woman's?"

He looked at his father and Rosie followed his line of vision. Sherlock was nodding.

"Go on." He continued to smile.

"Well, she always played with her hair down," Callum pressed the violin to his side as he removed a strand of long black hair from the strings and let it drop to the ground. He held it up again.

Molly laughed softly.

"The strings haven't been replaced in a long time even though she loved to play; either she was too poor to get new strings or she was in some other circumstance that prevented her from getting some." He picked up the bow from the couch and played a few notes. "Though I will say, it's properly tuned."

"Maybe she had to choose between tuning and new strings," Rosie suggested, "And always settled for the tuning. Though, if that is the case, why couldn't she tune it herself?"

"Again, in some sort of circumstance that prevented her from getting the necessary tools for tuning."

"Besides money, what could have?"

"Indeed, Dad, what could have? I'm finding the engraving on the back more perplexing than anything."

"The engraving?" Rosie craned her neck as Callum flipped the violin over to reveal two cursive letters engraved into the wood.

" _E.H._ Is she a long lost relative that I never heard of?"

The smile disappeared from his father's face as he nodded solemnly.

"So wait," Rosie felt confused, "What has this have to do with my father and the white flower?"

She turned to face her dad as she saw him perk up in the corner of her eye.

"You told her?" He asked Callum.

"You never told me not to." Callum shrugged.

"Well," Sherlock stood up, "to answer your question, Rosie, yes, they're connected though they had slightly different stories of their own."

Rosie raised an eyebrow in her father's direction.

"I'll tell you some other time." John said.

"Okay..."

"So what about this long lost relative I never knew about?" Callum handed the violin back to his father, "and how come I'm only seeing this violin now?"

"Well, you're only seeing this violin now because it arrived via mail today the same time your Uncle John received his white flower.

"As for your question about your long lost relative, that is a very long story, which I'll shorten and will tell you this much: she's my sister, Euros."

"Euros?" Callum raised an eyebrow, "Does anyone on your side of the family have a normal name?"

"Yes," Sherlock smiled, "My father's name was Harry.

"Anyway, Euros is a genius, in some ways, even more brilliant than I am. But hers drove her to madness at a young age. For the longest time, due to a long, complicated string of events, I even forgot she existed because she was sent away to an institute and was later reported dead due to a fire she created. Your great-uncle shipped her off to an island institution and only told your Uncle Mycroft when he had gained the clearance. I remained in the dark until about 17 years ago. She had escaped and wanted to ruin my life-just for observation. We eventually caught her and put her back in the institute; her madness left her in some kind of catatonic state of some sorts that left her unable to verbally communicate, and 10 years ago, she couldn't even acknowledge my presence.

"Before then, we had violin sessions together which I quite enjoyed. I didn't know she's recovered from all of this."

"You had violin sessions with her? Even though she tried to ruin your life?" For once, Callum reacted exactly in sync with how Rosie was feeling.

"Your Aunt Euros is a very disturbed woman; very lonely. If it makes you feel any better, she's probably the only reason you exist."

"Um…how so?" Callum looked uncomfortably between him and Molly, "is there something you've neglected to tell me?" He looked thoughtful for a few moments before a look of realization came upon his face. "No...am I adopted? Am I _her_ son and you guys took me in?!"

"What?" Molly looked confused then laughed, "Of course not!"

"Wow, that went to a conclusion even I didn't see coming." Sherlock chuckled before Molly swatted him on the back.

Callum blew out a sigh of relief at the same time Rosie found herself doing.

"That's not what I mean, Callum," Sherlock looked as if he were still trying to hold back laughter, "what I meant was that she put your mother and I in an uncomfortable situation that pushed us to tell each other how we saw each other. We probably wouldn't be together any other way."

Callum blinked then nodded slowly.

"You two have the strangest love story that I've ever heard of."

"No kidding," John said from his chair.

"So…" Rosie spoke, "you guys got this in the mail today…does this mean she's escaped again?"

"Probably." Sherlock put his hands together as he often did while contemplating a case. It was easy to see where Callum had picked up his habits.

"But where is she? You said that she's a lonely woman; why hasn't she tried to see you guys in person? Could she be seeing Mycroft?"

"No, I got a text from him just before you two arrived; he's over at the island institute right now trying to figure out how she escaped. The superintendent just got fired—again. This time, Mycroft is taking over for good."

"Well I always thought he should've." Molly said, "He's always envied the isolation that the position promised."

"He wants me to come to Sherrinford tomorrow. That's the name of the institute."

"Excellent," Callum smiled, "May I go along?"

"No," Molly said, "We've discussed this, Callum; no helping your father on cases until you're 18."

"But I'm a freshman in _college,_ Mum _._ Not many 16-year-olds can say that."

"You're still 15."

"16 in two-and-a-half-weeks. Besides, I would like to get a feel about this aunt I never knew, even if it's just investigating her asylum cell."

"Sherlock."

Rosie smiled to herself knowing that one word from his father would silence him on the matter; he was the only who could.

Sherlock didn't say anything.

"Sherlock…" Molly droned while her son's face lit up with hope.

"Well," Sherlock held up his hands defenseless, "We could go in the other room and talk about this if you'd like."

"Yes; please." Molly stood up as did her husband and they both left the room and into their bedroom shutting the door behind them.

Rosie tried not to look amused as her father nibbled a biscuit with a soft chuckle. Molly and Sherlock never had all-out screaming arguments, rather they _disagreed quietly_ as Caullum put it.

Callum's look of victory was back and plain on his face.

"Could she go with me if I were allowed?" he asked he father gesturing to Rosie.

John choked on his biscuit.

"No."

Rosie looked to her father.

"We'll see." He revised, "There are cannibals held there."

"Really?" Callum looked even more fascinated. "How does that sound, Watson?"

"Charming." Rosie said though she secretly wanted to take a peek at the unknown Sherrinford institute.

And Callum knew it.

Two minutes later, Molly and Sherlock emerged from their bedroom.

"Okay." Molly said, "You may go…"

Callum perked up.

"On this case _only_ because it's family business. After that, you'll have to wait two more years before you can work with your father on his cases."

Callum looked at his father.

"It was the best I could negotiate with your mother," Sherlock said, "Your mother's words are generally law."

"That's right." Molly piped.

Callum looked so much like a kid on Christmas morning that it rubbed off onto Rosie a bit as well. He looked at John and raised his eyebrows in an unsaid question.

John looked like he didn't want to answer right away.

"Um, well…" he looked at Rosie, "I don't think you're even allowed to go."

"Oh she can," Sherlock said, "You know Mycroft has a softer spot for her even more so than for my own son; he'll give her clearance."

"Well, uh…" he clenched his teeth and looked to Rosie again. "You…wouldn't happen to even want to be apart of this shananagance now, would you."

"She does."

"Callum, I can speak for myself." Rosie stood up and walked to her father. "I'll be careful, Dad; I promise."

John tapped his foot for a few moments before turning to Sherlock.

"You're in charge of her. Promise you'll keep her safe."

"I always have; and we both know that Callum has all but taken up the mantle with that vow by now."

"Yes. Yes, he has."

For some reason unknown to Rosie, John gave Callum a look that he usually reserved for the boys she brought home.

"Alright, then it's settled." Sherlock clapped his hands together, "We leave tomorrow morning."

* * *

 **Well that went a bit longer than I expected. Hopefully the next chapter won't be quite as long. Anyway, please review and comment! But please no character bashing and/or foul language.**


	3. Where in the World is Euros Holmes?

**Hey, guys! Thanks for all the nice reviews on the last chapter!**

 **Guest/someone/Guest 2: Thank-you so much!**

 **Alatum Laminis: Yeah, the "uncanny personalities" were my aim, so it's nice to see that I'm accomplishing just that! Thank-you! As for the motivation for escaping Sherrinford? Well, you'll find out soon enough. ;)**

 **Analena: Yep, you're right! Only the Holmes would find a trip to a mental asyulum a fun day out! And as for Molly having the final say in certain things, someone has to keep those Holmes men in line and it might as well be the only one who's not a high-functioning sociopath! I'm still working on how Rosie will find out about the story behind that little white flower, but she can't be in dark too much longer, that much I know.**

 **And before I start this chapter I would like to thank my brother whom I bounced off ideas for this chapter and chapters beyond. Yesterday morning, I had no idea how to open this chapter. Well, I had** _ **some**_ **sort of idea, but didn't have the substance I do now. I had one of the closing scenes more developed but it was just fluff and not the** _ **really**_ **important stuff. By the time I was finished talking with him, I knew where I was going with it, which made it easier to just sit down and type. :)  
**

 **So, on that note, let's get on with the story, shall we?**

* * *

Rosie looked out of the helicopter window as it was landing on the landing pad on the asylum's island.

"Ready to meet some cannibals, Rose?"

Rosie jumped as she realized that Callum was sitting behind her giving her no room to turn around.

"Do you mind?" She asked.

Callum scooted back but only a couple of centimeters; she could still smell his cologne.

"You haven't answered my question."

She turned around and saw him giving her his maddening boyish grin.

"Contrary to what you believe, I have no intension of meeting people who eat their own; literally."

"Wow; that sounded so much like my mother that it's cringe worthy."

"I wasn't joking."

"I know; makes it sound a little less like her; a little."

"There won't be time to see the cannibals." Sherlock said from the passenger seat.

Rosie braced herself as the helicopter landed.

"Not even a little?" Callum sounded so disappointed that Rosie covered her mouth so her smile would go undetected.

"No; every second your aunt is on the loose is another second she could be planning something akin to a terrorist attack, and don't think that I'm joking; she would do it. She's got the brains, and she has little regard for human life."

Callum slouched in his seat looking like he was a child who was just denied an ice cream cone.

"Why do you want to see cannibals anyway?" Rosie unclicked her seat belt. She would be lying if she said she wasn't at least a little disturbed by her best friend's latest fascination.

"Because I've never seen one before," Callum unlocked his own seat belt, "I want to observe them; see the look in their eyes and see what it looks like when someone's completely lost their humanity. That way, I'll know one when I see one." He opened his door and jumped out.

Rosie tilted her head. As usual she had never thought about it the way Callum would. But she didn't disapprove the reason. She opened her door and jumped when she saw that Callum was waiting for her.

"Don't scare me like that," she put her hand over her chest as his earlier grin appeared on his face.

"Wasn't my intent; but I'll go with it," he extended his hand which she refused as she jumped onto the packed sand on her own.

* * *

"Too bad it's an asylum island," Rosie told Callum as they walked the halls of Sherrinford, "Otherwise, it would be a pretty place."

"Pretty as it is, it's not exactly a vacation spot with those rough waters," Callum reasoned, "If it wasn't an asylum island, it would probably be a prison island."

"True."

Both froze as the echoes of deranged laughter drifted from the hall they just passed. They both took a couple steps back and saw that the hall led to some sublevel.

"Don't mind that," Sherlock called from further down the hall, "That's where the cannibals are held."

"Hmm." Callum smiled as he began making his way down the hall.

Rosie grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back. He laughed as he let her fiercely steer him around and push him in the direction where his father was walking.

* * *

"Brother, how good to see you." Mycroft greeted Sherlock.

Rosie often wondered if Mycroft Holmes meant that in sincerity, or if he said that in repetitive politeness; it had always been hard to tell with him.

"Ah, I see you've settled in here quite nicely." Sherlock looked around and Rosie saw what he meant. It looked as if the only thing of his he hadn't moved into this office was his bed…unless if that was in the next room of course.

"Well, like I said over the phone, I'm taking over for good; should've done it years ago. If I had, we probably wouldn't be in this mess—again. There wouldn't happen to be bombs in your apartment where Molly would be this time of day on her day off would there?"

"Not that I'm aware."

"Did you check?" Mycroft smiled in his evil way.

"Yes. Molly just texted me that she's fine; I've asked her to keep me updated."

"Good. Last time reaped some disastrous results; it killed your bachelorhood."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Rosie crossed her arms, "I might have grown up an only child."

Mycroft laughed.

"Yes, poor Callum."

"Why?" Rosie turned to Callum to see that his face was tinted red and he was shooting his uncle a dirty look.

"Ah, never mind. It's good to see you, Rosie." He gave her a hug, which was significant, because she was the only one he would hug apparently. "Your father's not here?"

"He had a staff meeting at work today; he couldn't avoid it." Rosie hugged Mycroft but kept a perplexed eye on Callum.

"So, where are we on finding Euros?" Sherlock asked drawing attention away from his son.

"Pretty much the same, I'm afraid. We can go look at her cell, if you'd like."

"Yes, please."

* * *

"This is where she was for the last 17 years?" Callum asked mirroring Rosie's thoughts.

"Well, if you want to be more specific, she's been here since she was 9 years old." Mycroft stuck his hands in his pockets, "When she was a child she had some children's toys and a comfier bed, but she outgrew all of those things very quickly. The things she wanted we couldn't give her because we quickly learned that anything we give her, no matter how insignificant it may have seemed could be used as a tool of escape."

Rosie walked around the sparse room which consisted of nothing but a violin stand, a small stack of books and a twin sized bed.

"Was there supposed to be a glass wall here?"

Rosie turned around to find Callum standing midway between the bed and the front door. He gently floated his hand just above the surface of the wall.

"Yes. There had to be because she couldn't have a door. It was still a means of escape no matter how secure it could be. It could have 15 different locks originating from 15 different countries and she could still escape within a matter of days."

"Amazing," Rosie realized her jaw had dropped.

"Well, she's definitely a Holmes." Callum smiled.

"Yes, indeed." Mycroft sounded grim, "To her—and our—detriment."

"I'm assuming she took over the whole asylum again?" Sherlock asked picking up one of her books and looked it over. He paused over a small, wooden statuette and picked it up scrutinizing it.

"Yes. It took me all night to put things back in order." Mycroft rubbed his eyes in weariness.

"Took over the asylum?" Rosie asked, "And what do you mean by 'again'?"

"Euros has this…way about her." Sherlock explained, "She's very powerful at making people susceptible to her suggestions."

"Indeed," Mycroft said, "There was a guard here who worked here for only two weeks. He quit because she was making suggestions to him to kill his family."

"Why?" Rosie asked.

"Because everything is an observation game to her. Anyway, he said as he quit that her voice was like a worm burrowing into his mind; he couldn't get it out. So he decided to walk away.

"Two weeks later, he killed his family and himself."

Rosie covered her mouth in horror and looked at Callum to see that he had similar look on his face. Not without a hint of fascination though, the fiend.

"So she's taken over before?" Callum asked.

"It's how she escaped the last time. Any clue as to how long?"

"My estimation? About three months, which is much better than the last time."

"How long was the last time?"

"I'm not sure, but every indication was that it was about three years. I'm guessing that because there was quite a bit of things that went undocumented during 2014-2017."

"Three years. That's a long time for a psychopath like her to have the reins on this place." Callum gave his uncle a look, "What did she do during all that time?"

"My guess is that she planned for her game she would eventually play on us."

"That's it?"

"What else would she have been doing? I've looked into the missing time all I could and nothing dastardly turned up."

"Yes, but if I had all that time on my hands and I was her, I would be doing so much more than just plan for a game with my brother who had long since forgotten me. I mean, I can come and go as a please with no bars nor iron cage holding me back for the first time since I was 9 years old. I think I'd be doing quite a bit."

"What are you saying?"

"Well, with a person like that with an intel like that, she could have had an entire lifetime of things she could've accomplished during that unaccounted time. I'm not saying like terrorist scale stuff, although she might've done that too. I'm talking about just exploring the world. She could've met someone that she's staying with now. Someone we know nothing about, and wouldn't know because no one kept an eye on her." He pointed to the book in Sherlock's hands.

"You think she might know someone in America, being that that's what the book's about?"

Sherlock opened the book and leafed through it.

"I guess it's possible." He said, "Don't you agree, Mycroft."

"I suppose so. Perhaps reproducing wasn't the worst thing you could've done after all."

He had to put it that way. Though, Callum was probably used to his uncle speaking that way about him by now.

"Well, it's worth a shot. What do we have to lose?" Sherlock looked up at his brother.

"Point taken. I'll use my resources to see what I can find near the home of the brave."

* * *

"Isn't there anything else we can do right now?" Callum asked stretched out on the bed out of the inn room they rented, "I'm bored out of my mind."

It had been three hours since Mycroft had started to use his "resources" to search America and so far nothing popped up. Nothing.

"You didn't think it would be this easy, did you?" Sherlock asked from his computer, "we may put things together in our minds faster than the average person, but it still takes time. And patience."

Callum groaned.

"What are you doing right now, Uncle Sherlock?" Rosie stood behind him and looked down on his laptop.

"I'm looking into that statuette that was in her cell. Stuck me as odd that she had it there, being that it wasn't there last time so I'm looking into its origin."

"Anything so far?"

"Not quite, but I'll get somewhere soon. It seems to be rather hard to trace." He spun around in his chair as Rosie stood back. "In the meantime, why don't you two go out to dinner? I'm sure you can find a local favorite in this fishing town. Maybe explore the town when you're done. This could take some time and you should enjoy traveling as much as you can in between solving the case."

Callum perked up.

"There's an idea." He sprung off the bed and adjusted his black shirt collar, "Say…Rosie. Would you mind accompanying me on a date this fine evening in No-Where's-Ville Europe?" He bowed dramatically.

"You're too funny, Callum." She laughed and cleared her throat, "Why not, kind sir? I'll go get my coat."

* * *

"Well, this seems to be the town favorite, so let's go here." Callum opened the door to a restaurant called The Village Gathering and let Rosie entered first. As her eyes adjusted to the dim lights she saw why it would be the town favorite.

It wasn't a large restaurant, but it was a nice one. A rustic pub stood off to the side, the middle of the building held the dining area and, she felt herself smile when she saw a dance floor on the other side of the eating area where a few couple were dancing to some older music from the stereo.

"Ah, I see this place has everything you like."

She looked up to see Callum smiling, "Though, I don't think we're quite old enough to order a drink from the pub without my father present."

Rosie laughed softly as her eyes fell on the sign between the podium and the dining area.

PLEASE SEAT YOURSELVES: A WAITER SHOULD BE WITH YOU SHORTLY.

"Well, the bright side is that we get to pick our own seats." Callum said picking up menus from the pocket underneath the sign. "There's not a lot to choose from."

Rosie chuckled at his sarcasm as they entered the mostly empty dining room.

"Lead the way," Callum said tucking the menus under his arm.

Rosie chose a spot in the middle where she could see the dance floor and sat down. Callum sat across from her handing her a menu.

"I can see your heart is set elsewhere," Callum smirked as he opened his menu.

"Maybe I'll dance while we're waiting for our food." Rosie opened her own menu and found that there was a nice selection of things to choose from.

"Perhaps I'll join you."

"You hate dancing." Rosie didn't look up from her menu as her eyes fell on the drink choices.

"I hate dancing alone." Callum specified.

"Are you asking me to reserve my first dance for you?" Rosie smiled looking up.

"Maybe." She saw Callum smile back as he looked his menu over, "And your last if you don't mind."

"Welcome to the Village Gathering."

Both looked up to see a waiter in his early 20's holding a pen and pad in his hands.

"My name is Allister and I'll be serving ye tonight. Is there anything I can get to drink for the lovely couple?"

"Oh," If Rosie was sipping on a drink, she'd be choking right now, "Um, we're not a couple. And, uh, what do you suggest?"

"Really?" Allister looked intrigued. "Well, my apologies, ma'am. And if ye want my suggestion…" He leaned over her menu to where the drinks were located and pointed to one of the options, "The ginger beer, we brew ourselves, and it's excellent if ye're looking for something a little spicy. It's non-alcoholic, if that sort of thing bothers ye."

"Oh," Rosie smiled up at the man noting his Scottish accent and how handsome he was, "I think I'll try that; thank-you."

"Ye won't regret it. And what about ye, laddie?"

Rosie looked at Callum and saw that he was scowling.

"Sir?"

"Yes," Callum looked up at Allister, "I think I'll get the same thing."

"Alright. Two ginger beers coming right up. Do ye need more time with the menu?"

"I do," Rosie said.

"So do I. so, I yes, I think."

"Alright; I'll be right out with yer drinks." Allister turned and left for the kitchen.

"What was that about?" Rosie asked.

"What was what?" Callum asked looking at his menu.

"You were being rather rude to Allister."

"Oh, so it's 'Allister' and not 'the waiter'."

"What is wrong with you?"

Callum raised an eyebrow her way before returning to his menu.

"He's a habitual flirt and cheater."

"How do you know?"

"The fourth finger on his left hand has a ring mark on it, meaning he takes some sort of ring off every time he goes to work. Frees him up to flirt with the customers and waitresses don't you think?"

Rosie sighed.

"Of course he's a habitual cheater and he's hitting on me." She turned to her menu and made a mental note of how the scallop dinner looked good. "How do I always seem to attract those sort of guys? It's not like I come across like a lose girl. I don't, do I?"

"No; but you're blonde, so that attracts a general crowd. You just seem to always go out with guys like that."

"What are you saying?" Rosie put her menu down and crossed her arms.

"What I'm saying is that maybe you should take the time to get to know a guy as a person as a friend before you decide if he's worth dating, that's all." Callum closed his menu and set it down looking at her seriously. "You don't always have to have a date to get to know a person. Take you and I for example."

"Yeah, but it's different with you and I."

"How so?"

"I…don't know…it just is. I can't remember a time when I didn't know you. It was before things got…complicated and people got hard to understand."

"Well, at least we still have each other for that." He smiled picking up his menu.

"We do, don't we?" Rosie smiled in response and did the same.

"Two ginger beers." Allister returned and set one of the two cups in front of Callum, "And here ye go, Lass."

"Thank-you," Rosie said.

"Anything else I can get for ye?" Allister winked and clicked his tongue.

"I think I'll get the scallop dinner with the chips," Rosie said politely closing her menu.

"Now _tha_ t is a popular dish around her. Ye'll enjoy that quite nicely. And ye, laddie?"

"The bowl of seafood chowder." Callum set his menu on top of Rosie's.

"Alright." Allister wrote it down and picked up their menus. "If there's anything, _anything_ I can do to help, let me know." He smiled fondly at Rosie and walked away.

"He is not good at being subtle with his intentions is he?" Rosie laughed once he was safely in the kitchen.

"Not in the least." Callum chuckled.

"I don't know about you, but I'm going to dance." Rosie got up and walked toward the dance floor. She heard Callum's chair scrape across the floor as he stood up to follow her.

"Allow me to accompany you, Miss Watson; protect you from _dangerous_ waiters." He winked at her.

Rosie laughed and looped her arm through his offered one.

They arrived on the dance floor just as One Direction's _Diana_ began to play overhead. Rosie enjoyed being twirled and spun around as they got a feel for the fast tempo.

"You're so good at dancing," she said mid-song, "Why don't you do it more?"

"I rarely have anyone to dance with."

"What am I, exactly? Chopped liver?"

"Touché." Callum agreed spinning her around again. She knew he wouldn't spin her so often if she didn't have a high tolerance for constant movement. But she did and he knew it; it was the benefits of having someone knowing her so well.

"When we get home," Rosie said a couple of minutes later as the song was ending, "I think one of our extracurricular activities will have to be dancing on the weekends."

"We do make pretty good partners, don't we?" He pulled her closer and looked down at her with a smile.

"Yes, we do, Mr. Holmes."

The next song was much slower…and older; _much_ older, though she recognized it. She often thought the tune of James Blunt's _You're Beautiful_ sounded much nicer than the voice that went with it, even though the lyrics were nice.

Instead of twirling her around, Callum seemed content to sway back and forth with her to the slower beat, which Rosie was fine with being that she was ready to slow down a little. She was tired after the early morning trip and walking around all day; it was almost as if he sensed her mood, which might not have been far from the truth.

Resting her head right underneath his shoulder, Rosie closed her eyes and felt herself relax a bit more.

"Tired?" She felt the vibration of Callum's voice from his chest.

"A little; just waiting for dinner to show up; I'm starving."

Callum chuckled, a deep sound and vibration that made her relax a bit more.

"I know what you mean."

They didn't say anything after that, nor did she feel the need to start another conversation, which was another nice thing about being close to Callum; silence was never awkward.

A couple minutes later another song began to start, this time the Bee Gees _Stayin' Alive_.

"Looks like our food's arrived."

Rosie opened her eyes and glanced at their table. She pulled away and found that she was reluctant to do so as they headed back to their table.

* * *

Over dinner, she found that the air between them was…different. Not different in a bad way; in fact, it was good, but still _different_ and she wasn't sure how or why _._

They talked about things they usually talked about, and laughed at the same things they always had, but it was still different.

"Oh, and by the way," Callum looked as if he were trying to contain laughter, " _Toby_ is going to ask you out when we get home."

"Toby Lestrade?" Rosie stabbed a scallop and paused her arm in midair.

"No, Toby the man running for Prime Minister; of _course_ Toby Lestrade."

"Toby's well…" She let her voice drift.

"Go on; say it." Callum laughed.

"Toby." Both said in unison.

"Besides, I think he cheated to get good grades."

"Oh, rest assured he did." Callum finished off his seafood chowder, "I have proof; just waiting for the perfect opportunity to use it as blackmail."

"Callum."

"Okay, fine. I'll report it to the headmaster of your school if that makes you happy."

"Thank you. And yes, it does."

* * *

They decided to take a couple of slices of chocolate cake to go as they headed out into the brisk, cool night.

"We really stayed out late," Rosie pulled her coat in tighter, "it's dark out."

"Our conversations always seem to have conversations," Callum wrapped an arm around her shoulder, "That's always how Mum always puts it."

"Well, she would be right; at this point, I'm just ready to climb into a warm bed."

"I know what you mean. It's been a long day."

"Mmm." Rosie nodded in agreement.

As the two walked into their inn room a little while later, however, they knew that it was not meant to be after one look at Callum's father.

He was holding the statuette and was on the phone with Mycroft.

"We should be there in about a half hour." He said hanging up. He smiled at his son and goddaughter.

"Get ready to go," he said straightening his jacket, "I think I know why Euros escaped Sherrinford."

* * *

 **Phew! So much for this being a shorter chapter! I applaud anyone who's taken the time to read it!**

 **And as a side note, I'm not sure if Euros had control over Sherrinford for three years the first time; she probably didn't, but let's say she did for the sake of the story.**

 **Anyway, please review and comment! But please no character bashing and/or foul language.**


	4. Of Elephants and Biographies

**Hello, guys, I'm back! This was probably the hardest chapter to write so far, but I hope it's enough to keep the story going! Thank-you for the new reviews!**

 **Guest: I'm glad I was able to make Rosie and Callum's chemistry cute! One of the hardest things that I have found is to create a building romance between two people who have known each other for their entire lives, so it's nice to know that I'm on the right track.**

 **Analena: OMG! When I first saw your comment, I thought, 'wow, that was a great idea!' Then remembered the original direction of the storyline and remembered why that wouldn't have worked with it. But that would have been the perfect time to abduct them, and now, thinking about it, would have made this a more interesting chapter than it really is.**

 **And thank-you, Tempofugi, and Jenelly, for following this story after the last chapter!**

 **Now, before I start, I would like make a book recommendation. I know that sounds weird but I feel that it might be the perfect thing for those who would like a book with a Sherlock Holmes feel, and are still feeling the letdown since the last season ended. I bought this book and finished it in a week. It's called** _ **Stalking Jack the Ripper**_ **, and it's by Kerri Maniscalo. It's her first book that she's published and it's excellent! The main character I feel is a cross between John Watson and Molly Hooper because of her short temper and her love for forensics science and the main male protagonist is most definitely based after Sherlock Holmes! The way he acts and thinks is** _ **perfect**_ **, and I think it's definitely for every Sherlock fan out there!**

 **Well, now that that's out of the way, let's get on with the story!**

* * *

Rosie felt like she was going to fall asleep any minute as she sat in Mycroft's office, even though she was interested in what Sherlock had discovered.

"Now what," Mycroft asked looking as if he were going to fall asleep at any moment himself, "Is your theory this time, brother mine?"

Sherlock placed the statuette on his desk.

"How long has this been in her cell?"

"I've never seen it before," Mycroft said picking it up and looking it over, "I assume it's one of her trinkets she absconded while she took over."

"What do you see when you look at it?"

Mycroft took a closer look at it.

"An elephant and her calf. What about it?"

"I did some research, but couldn't make any connection until I looked through the books, and found they followed a certain theme."

"They're geography books. Do you think she went to Africa to go elephant hunting?"

Sherlock didn't seem to notice the sarcasm as he plunged further into his theory.

"Not in the least, considering they're not geography books."

Sherlock reached into the satchel he brought and pulled out the books from Euros' cell and placed them in front of Mycroft.

The covers had been ripped off revealing their true title leaving behind scraps of the false covers here and there on the cover surfaces.

Rosie felt intrigued and stood up. Callum beat her in two strides and picked up one of the books before his uncle could even blink.

"Mother Theresa?"

Rosie reached over and grabbed another one.

"Marie Currie," she set it down and picked up the next one, "Monica of Hippo."

"Helen Augusta," Callum picked up another one, "And who is Amy Carmichael?"

"An excellent question," Sherlock sat back down in his chair and placed his ankle on his other leg's knee, folding his hands in the process, "which I will answer shortly. But in the meantime, what do these women seem to have in common?"

"They're all famous," Mycroft answered drolly picking up his cup of coffee, "Well, except for perhaps Ms. Carmichael."

Sherlock smiled as if he were about to reveal a well kept secret.

"They were, in one way or another mothers. Mother Theresa started an orphanage in Calcutta, Marie Currie is now known as the 'Mother of Modern Science', Monica of Hippo is most famous for being the mother of St. Augustine just as much as Helen Augusta is known for being the mother of Constantine the Great; and Amy Carmichael was an Irish missionary who started a children's home in Dohnavur, India, where she rescued children from temple prostitution. Nearly every child recorded eventually called her _Amma_ which is their dialect for _mother._ "

Mycroft choked on his coffee, then composed himself as well as he could.

"Brother, our mother is dead." He cleared his throat with dignity.

Sherlock tilted his head hopelessly.

"I know you know that I'm not talking about her visiting our mother."

"I know what you're indicating, brother mine; I just don't want to accept it."

Rosie blinked.

"Wait…are you saying that she has a son or daughter?"

Sherlock pointed her way without looking at her.

"Exactly."

Callum beside her raised an eyebrow.

"Are there any other family members that I should be aware of? Perhaps from Mum's side?"

"We can investigate that when we get home, but right now, yes, I believe that she has a child out there, and she has gone to look for it."

"You know as well as I do that that's not possible," Mycroft crossed his arms, "she would abort the child by any means possible, and even if she did want a child, who would grab her attention enough to want her to make the man the father of her child?"

"Who's the first person that comes to mind?"

Mycroft scoffed.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Is this you not believing or you not accepting it? She had control for three years, so it's possible that she got more than those five minutes that you saw with him."

"Who are you talking about?" Callum asked looking as confused as Rosie felt.

"He's talking about James Moriarty. No doubt your father's told you about him."

"Wait…" Callum stammered, " _That_ guy is the father of my cousin? The one that caused you to fake your own death?"

"Interesting choice, I'll give her that." Rosie shrugged and Callum tilted his head in agreement.

Mycroft sighed.

"No, he's no, because he's been long since _dead_ and she doesn't have a child! I think I would know."

"Not if she had complete control for three years resulting in undocumented time, and might I remind you that she's more brilliant than you and I combined? If there was anyone who could keep a child a secret for nearly 20 years, it would be her.

"Do you honestly think that those clips of him that was used during her last game was compiled in just the five minutes she had alone with him all those years ago? Not that Euros _couldn't_ do it; she just didn't."

Mycroft sighed in frustration.

"Then explain why she didn't look for the child when she got out 17 years ago."

"She had planned to, but never planned to have that breakdown; or to lose to the game for that matter. She had planned to go looking for it as soon as she won, but had the breakdown causing her to be reinstituted. So she had to start from scratch as soon as she recovered from the breakdown, which was only recently apparently."

"As far as we know. She might have long since recovered and played insanity to keep the rest of the staff pacified and unsuspecting. Who knows how long she's been playing this system?"

"Another point I was about to bring up."

Mycroft sighed again then rubbed his eyes.

"Why would she even want to have a child?"

Sherlock shrugged.

"Who knows? She's quite lonely; perhaps she wanted someone to reach out to if for some reason or another couldn't with you or I."

Mycroft nodded his head seeming to agree with Sherlock for once.

"So…say for a moment that you're right, which I'm not saying, what you're indicating is that Euros left us breadcrumbs to follow which seems a little too obvious, even if she does want us to figure out why she's trying to escape. Perhaps she wants to misdirect us."

"Perhaps, but you know how she plays her games. Even if it is a misdirect, we'll find out why she left. The question remains as to where."

"Yes, indeed. Unless of course, you have an idea of where she right now?"

Sherlock folded his hands together again.

"It's a longshot, but what is the common denominator between Mother Theresa, Amy Carmichael, and the statuette of the elephants?"

Mycroft blinked then nodded slowly.

"Ah, I see; the women's ministries were both in India, and well, the elephants are self-explanatory."

"Precisely; Mother Theresa's in Calcutta and Carmichael's in Dohnavur. And of course, elephants are nearly as common as house cats over there."

"So you're saying that she left her child in one of those two children homes."

Sherlock scoffed.

"Probably not. Knowing Euros, she would want to leave her child somewhere with high academic standards. Do we not have a cousin who is currently the headmaster at the Assam Valley School in India, Mycroft?"

Mycroft inhaled sharply.

"I'll call Edward immediately; he has some explaining to do if you're right."

Callum looked as if he were just granted the lottery.

"Are we going to India, Dad?"

Sherlock turned and smiled at his son.

"Most likely."

"Yes!" Callum pumped both of his fists. "This almost, _almost_ makes up for not seeing the cannibals!"

Rosie felt herself chuckle and pressed her forehead against Callum's shoulder.

"Until then, can we go back to the hotel, and get back to this in the morning? I'm surprised I've stayed awake this long." She looked at Sherlock.

He smiled.

"Alright," he stood up, "Let us know the moment Edward gets back to you; I'll put my phone on vibrate."

"Will do."

"Bye, Uncle Mycroft." Rosie used the last of her energy to give him a finger wave.

Mycroft, who was already on the phone, smiled affectionately at Rosie and waved back as they left the room.

Rosie felt as though she were going to pass out the moment she set foot outside the office.

Callum on the other hand looked wide awake.

"Dad?"

Sherlock stopped and turned around.

"The night's still young; is there any possibility that we can see the cannibals?"

Rosie groaned.

* * *

 **Okay, I'm not going to lie: this was definitely not my best chapter, even with the knowledge that it was more of an info-dump chapter, *cringes*. But yeah, now you all know why Euros escaped Sherrinford as soon as she was able! It might not be the best storyline, but it was probably the only one I could go with that wasn't too time consuming or complicated. Unfortunately, I'm no Moffat writer, or else, I would have put together a much more intriguing and mind bending story.**

 **On a side note, Edward, of course is an OC of mine made conveniently for this story! ;)**

 **Anyway, please review and comment, but please no character bashing and/or foul language.**


	5. Bartimaeus

**Hello, fellow Sherlockians! Thank-you for all of your reviews in the last chapter!**

 **Guest: Thank-you so much for that comment! I honestly felt honored to receive it, Roselock being compared to the Cresswell ship and all that! And as for writing a fanfiction for that ship, I'll have to do some thinking about it, but I don't think it's entirely off the table!**

 **Gheart: Thank-you; it's nice to know that I'm capturing him so well! I know I have to work on giving him some "Molly" traits other than unrequited love, which is hard because I like Callum the way he is, but to keep him a true Sherolly kid, I have to give him some sort of a Molly angle; I just need to find the right one that doesn't come off as forced or contradictory to his character.**

 **Analena: Yeah, Eurus and Moriarty is one dangerous mix! I don't think I would like to meet a real-live version of** _ **that!**_

 **Alatum Laminis: Yeah, they would be one dangerous couple; they go together a little** _ **too**_ **well, but have somehow made it onto one of my armada of ships if you know what I mean. And as for the kid being a psychopath, well, you're just going to have to find out! ;)**

 **Someone: You're going to have to forgive Callum at the beginning of this chapter for not being serious; he's just being, well…Callum.**

* * *

Rosie lay snuggled under her blanket, in a blissful state between dreamland and reality. She was aware of movement surrounding her. Sherlock's voice, Callum's voice, a door opening and closing and footsteps but she was unwilling to fully wake up at that moment.

Something suddenly poked her in the arm.

"You awake?" Another poke. "You awake?" Another poke. "You awake?"

Rosie squeezed her eyes tight determined not to give in to Callum's persistence. She wasn't going to get up and that was that.

Rosie rolled over turning away from Callum and pulled the covers over her head. She heard him walk away. Good. He got the message. Maybe now she could get back to that blissful state of rest.

She suddenly heard someone running. Why was someone running? Wait a minute…

Rosie's eyes flung open just as Callum crashed next to her on the bed.

She sat up with a squeak then grabbed her pillow and started to hit him over and over while he had the _nerve_ to just _lay_ there and laugh hysterically at her reaction!

"You! Spoiler! Of! Dreams!" She cried out still hitting him with her pillow.

"Why?" Callum laughed, "Who were you dreaming of? Toby Lestrade?"

Rosie raised her pillow to hit him again.

"Okay-okay-okay-don't hit me!"

She hit him.

"Alright, fine." The next time she hit him with her pillow, Callum grabbed it, pulled her down next to him, then threw the pillow on the ground faster than a recently-awoken Rosie could register.

She laid there, blinking at the swift gestures.

"Uncle Mycroft called this morning." He said as Rosie quickly sat up to grab another pillow.

She halted her movements than turned around to look at him.

"And?"

"And…" Callum sat up on his elbows, "Turns out, my distant cousin Edward has been raising my Aunt Eurus' son for the last 18 years. He's attended the boarding school and everything."

"Wow." Rosie grabbed the pillow and laid down laying on top of it. "And your dad nor Uncle Mycroft even got a hint of his existence?"

Callum shook his head.

"No."

"That's rather strange." Rosie contemplated. "I mean, considering your aunt has been institutionalized for so long, one would think Edward would have come forward about him."

"One would think, but knowing at least a little of what my aunt is capable of, she could have given a nasty threat if my cousin's existence were to be made known; one that she could follow through with."

"True." Rosie sat back up brushing her wild blonde curls back, never liking how her hair looked in the morning. "What now?"

Callum smiled.

"Dad's booked a flight to India. We're going back to London to meet up with your father, then we're taking the next flight over to New Dehli. From there, we'll go to a hotel, then meet up with Edward and my cousin tomorrow."

Rosie raised an eyebrow.

"We're going to India?"

Callum nodded eagerly.

"You could have just _told_ me that instead of jumping onto my bed!" She leaned forward and shoved him in the chest.

"Now where would the fun be in that, Watson?" Callum smiled looking up at her.

"Well, whatever the case is, I'm in." She tumbled out of bed then dropped to the floor to pull her suitcase from under her bed. "Where is your father anyway?"

"He went downstairs to get breakfast; he told me to wake you up."

Rosie hoisted her suitcase on to her bed and unzipped it.

"Which you had to do quite rudely."

"I know no other way."

Rosie snorted.

"That's an understatement." She pulled out a brown button up shirt and a pair of slacks.

"Oh, you're fine just the way you are." Callum waved his hand as if he were brushing away a fly.

Rosie tilted her head in slight annoyance at his joke.

"Uh, huh; like, I'm going to present myself in a black lace nightgown and a pair of socks."

"I hear they're quite in fashion."

"You're impossible." She muttered under her breath as she zipped up her suitcase.

"Oh, I know. It's what you can't resist about me."

"Oh, most assuredly." Rosie walked into the bathroom, and shut the door behind her. "Does your cousin have a name?" She took the strap of her nightgown and slid it down her shoulder.

"Yes, and I thought my name was bad. Bartimaeus."

Rosie paused then slid the strap back up and opened the door.

"Bartimaeus."

Callum still stretched out on her bed nodded with a wicked grin on his face.

" _Bartimaeus?"_

"Mhmm."

"Is _any_ blood Holmes allowed a normal name?"

"Apparently not."

Rosie closed the door then turned her attention back to getting dressed.

"It stops at this generation. Your children will have normal names, even if I have to name them myself!"

"I think there's a fair chance that I'll let you; I'm not very good with names."

"Speak for yourself," Rosie buttoned her shirt, "you can't even get Toby's father's name right."

"It's Graham, isn't it?"

"Greg!"

"Ah, yes; Greg."

* * *

True to Callum's word, John Watson was waiting for them at the London airport sitting in one of the chairs.

"How was Sherrinford?" He asked standing up and pulling Rosie into a tight hug, which she returned.

"It was interesting."

"It was tolerable." Callum wheeled his suitcase and stood next to her.

"You're just disappointed that you didn't get to see the cannibals." Rosie crossed her arms.

"It was a once in a lifetime opportunity!"

John sighed then looked to Sherlock standing behind them.

"He's your son."

"So I've been told." Sherlock smiled.

* * *

The moment they touched down in New Dehli, Rosie knew this would be different from any other experience that she had ever encountered.

The air was significantly warmer, for starters and the air was charged with something profoundly different than whatever charged London; it was exotic, exhilarating and she wouldn't have it any other way.

The hotel they had booked was starkly different than the one they had booked in the small fishing town that was the closest to Sherrinford.

"Who's paying for this?" Rosie whispered to Callum as the entered the elaborate Radisson Blu lobby.

"Guess." Callum responded.

"Uncle Mycroft."

"Mhm."

"How rich _is_ he?" Rosie turned her head, "Is that the swimming pool?"

Callum turned his head to where Rosie's line of vision was, which was a body of water that could be seen from the lobby window.

"No; I think that's just for show. And to answer your question: I have absolutely no idea, but I do know he has a Swiss bank account."

"I just want to roam this entire place." She knew her eyes were wide but she didn't care. She turned to Callum who was smiling.

"That could be arranged. Though, I did see photos of the pool," he fished in his pocket, "I think you just might be diverted enough to put that 'wandering' on hold." He showed her.

She forced her jaw to stay in line.

"I take that back," she said, "I'm going to be swimming right after dinner."

* * *

"Aw," Rosie said a few minutes later as she and her father entered their suite. She walked to her bed. "Look at this." She gestured to an elephant made out of bath towels holding a purple flower in its trunk.

"Well, look at that; that's rather a nice welcoming." John said placing his suitcase in the closet.

Rosie took the flower and stuck it in her hair just behind her ear.

"What do you think?" She spun around.

"I think it's quite a nice hotel."

"No, I mean what do you think of this?"

John turned around from the closet and stared at her for a few seconds. His quick blinking indicated that he was initially startled by her appearance before smiling.

"Very pretty; just like your mum."

Perplexed, Rosie sat on her bed by the elephant and took the flower out twiddling it between her thumb and index finger, reminding her of something she had been meaning to ask.

"Dad?"

"Hmm?" John asked taking off his coat.

"What's the story behind the white flower that Eurus sent you?"

John froze just before hanging his coat in the closet.

"Well…uh… _that_ …" he looked at her, "Is…a story for a different time." He hung his coat.

Rosie nodded.

"Okay, why?"

"It's just…not an _easy_ one to relive, and I haven't fully forgiven myself for it, and may never.

"I'll probably tell you, but I'm not ready yet."

Rosie thought for a moment.

"Okay…."

John gave her a half smile before loosening his tie.

"Dad?"

He looked at her again.

"Nothing could ever make me think less of you, alright?" She hoped her sincerity showed in her eyes.

John nodded once answering.

"If you say so, Rose."

* * *

"It's rather strange." Rosie told Callum hours later with her feet dangling in the pool, "It was just a white flower, right?"

"Pretty much." Callum swam over to where she was perched and held on to the ledge, "Actually, it was the same kind of flowers you used to like to keep in your room when we were a lot younger."

"Really?" Rosie pulled one of her legs up and wrapped her arms around it.

"Yeah, the same ones you made me braid into your hair after you became obsessed with that Disney movie _Tangled._ "

Rosie smiled.

"That's still my favorite birthday gift you ever gave me."

"I regret ever asking Mum to pitch in whatever remained from my allowance." Callum pulled himself up and sat next to her. "But what can I say? I was 8 and naïve. Even _I_ didn't know that I would be spending hours trying to place the flowers just right in all those blonde curls and hearing you sing _When Will My Life Begin?, I have a Dream,_ and _I See the Light_ over and over again." He leaned over and ruffled her hair.

Rosie snickered.

"It's still one of my favorite movies."

"I know."

Rosie laughed then became thoughtful.

"What do you think is the story behind that flower?"

Callum looked as if he were thinking.

"I'm not sure. I've gone round and round in my mind about it and I just don't have anything to work with, so I'm stumped."

Rosie feigned surprise.

"You?" She placed a hand over her chest, "Stumped?" She leaned forward and placed a hand behind her ear. "Say that again for me will you? I didn't hear you the first time because those words are so foreign to your lips."

"Like I would give you the satisfaction." Callum smiled at her.

"You would; I'm the only one who can get you to do something like admit just how thick and arrogant you can be." She nudged his leg with her foot.

They locked eyes for a moment and Rosie felt it again. That…charged air that was between them at the Village Gathering just the night before, and she wasn't sure how to process it.

"So what do you think your cousin's like?" She didn't want either of them to go silent for too long; she was too afraid of what could happen in the silence. Why or what could happen, she wasn't quite sure.

Callum shrugged.

"Don't know, but if he's anything like his parents then we have a lot on our plates."

"No kidding." Rosie agreed letting her foot drop in the warm water again, "Remember your dad would make him the villain of our bedtime stories?"

"I still remember the day I found out that the Ogre Moriarty was based on an actual person."

"Yeah…" Rosie chuckled humorlessly, "I was there. It was one of the few times that you displayed the rare emotion of surprise."

"Yeah…"

"Though," Rosie looked to Callum, "Bartimaeus couldn't have had an easy go of it. I mean, would you if you knew that your mother was a psychopath and your father was something akin to a terrorist?"

Callum tilted his head.

"True."

"I think we should give him a chance."

"Oh, I never said I wouldn't. _But_ if I start picking up Ogre Moriarty vibes from him, I'm not going to trust him as far as I can throw him."

Rosie laughed.

"I'm with you on that."

Now it was Callum's turn to feign surprise.

"What was that?" He put his hand behind his ear, "Say that again for me, would you? I didn't hear you the first time because those words are so foreign to your lips."

"Oh, shut up." Rosie laughed shoving him in the shoulder.

Her laughter trailed off as she suddenly realized just how close she was sitting next to Callum and wondered if she had been sitting this close to him before. She looked up into his eyes. No, she realized, she hadn't.

She pulled herself out of their gaze and stood up clearing her throat.

"Well," she grabbed her towel, "I think I'll turn in early; we have another busy day, tomorrow."

Callum looked up at her.

"That we do."

She forced a smile.

"Good night." She walked away, but didn't get far before she heard him respond.

"Good night, Rosie."

* * *

 **Well, that chapter was fluffy. Honestly, I think I'm pre-diabetic because of how fluffy it turned out to be! I thought it was a little boring and choppy, but felt that this filler chapter was nessesarry, to set the stage for *snicker*** _ **Bartimaeus'**_ **arrival. Yeah, Eurus was worse than you thought, naming that poor kid the way she did. And just in case you're having a hard time pronouncing his name in your head, it's BART-tih-MAY-us.  
**

 **Anyway, please review and comment, and again, please no character bashing and/or foul language.**


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